


Bad Romance

by Languages_and_lattes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Jealous Iwaizumi Hajime, Jealous Oikawa Tooru, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Soulmates, cupid!Oikawa, liberal interpretation of Greek mythology, side daisuga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29671023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Languages_and_lattes/pseuds/Languages_and_lattes
Summary: "Some humans have soulmates. Which, no, don’t laugh, isn’t as sweet as you think it is, it’s just annoying. Those stubborn bastards can’t fall in love with someone else with an arrow. There is one person out of seven billion--how narrow-minded is that --that is perfect for them.”Iwaizumi Hajime is a second-year college student with no social life, let alone love life, to speak of. When Oikawa, one of Aphrodite's sons, is forced to be his reluctant matchmaker, they find themselves tangled up in a mess of their own doing.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	1. Soulmates Are Annoying

One of the worst things about the mortal world was metro stations. Oikawa was  _ certain  _ of that. He cautiously lifted a sandalled foot, grimacing at the layers of gum underneath. Gods. He would have to get that out of these sandals or his mother would never let it go.

He glanced at his target out of the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on ruffled brown spikes sticking up every which way. The first thing they’d need to do was get him a haircut. There was something a little endearing about it though: like he woke up like this and determined “yes, this is an absolutely acceptable look”. Coupled with a serious case of RBF, the guy was near-unapproachable. It was clear why he needed Oikawa’s help. 

Dark brown eyes locked on his, catching his stare, and Oikawa flitted his eyes away. No, not yet. He refused to meet a…. _ ’client’ _ … in a place this gross. Oikawa was pointedly looking in the other direction, but the man--Hajime Iwaizumi, if he remembered the name correctly, kept staring at him. His eyes circled Oikawa’s face, following the line of his back and lingering on the mid-thigh point where his toga ended. Oikawa smirked as he felt a surge of lust from the other man, crossing his legs again to accentuate his thighs as he stretched in his seat. The one plus side of the mortal world--only they appreciated how  _ pretty  _ he was. 

He peered coyly at Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye, licking his tongue over his lips slowly. Iwaizumi blinked slowly at him, another wave of lust coming from him even as he raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“So what the fuck are you supposed to be?” Oikawa started slightly at his tone of voice, nearly uncrossing his legs in the process. He  _ really _ should have worn some kind of undergarment with this get-up. Not to be caught off-guard, he leaned back, tilting his head against the stained window--- _ eugh _ \---before slanting his eyes down at him. 

“What does it look like?” he asked drily, twirling the halo above his head with one long finger as tiny wings twitched uncomfortably against the back of his seat. Iwaizumi scoffed at him. 

This was decidedly  _ not _ the first encounter Oikawa wanted. No matter--a man dressed as cupid on a subway in NYC was not something any local would remember after the initial meeting. He’d wait a few days, figure out Iwaizumi’s schedule, and have a proper introduction. And yet, before he could stop himself--

“And maybe brush your hair before you call someone else out, yeah?” 

Iwaizumi bristled, looking every bit like a pissed-off porcupine. It took every ounce of self-control in Oikawa’s body not to laugh at him. Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but Oikawa wasn’t about to give him the opportunity. Out of his satchel--it was  _ not  _ a man-purse, fuck you very much Suga-- he pulled out a sleek, teal-blue pair of headphones. He plopped them over his head, careful to avoid the shimmering white-yellow halo a few inches above it, and turned the volume up as high as it could go. He hummed along quietly under his breath, blowing a kiss at Iwaizumi at the outraged expression on his face. 

Even as he outwardly looked like he wanted to rip Oikawa’s head off, Oikawa felt the way Iwaizumi’s stomach grew hot with arousal. So, he liked pretty boys that were mean to him. Oikawa could work with that. 

Unfortunately for Iwaizumi, Oikawa would be getting off at the same stop as him--30 minutes from their first encounter. For the rest of the ride, Iwaizumi continued sending foul looks Oikawa’s way, receiving blown kisses and winks in response. For the first time since his punishment had begun, Oikawa felt a rush of excitement at the thought of starting this assignment.

___________________________________________________________________________

Hajime Iwaizumi had a pretty boring schedule, in Oikawa’s humble opinion. He would wake up early, in his shitty, run-down closet of an apartment on the far edge of the city limits, and walk a few blocks to the nearest metro station, clutching a hot thermos under his bleary eyes as the subway car hummed along. 

For a second-year university student, Iwaizumi didn’t seem to have that many friends. He went to classes, sat in the middle of the room and took notes, and left, without raising a hand or speaking to anyone at all. He’d take the metro home again, as soon as classes ended, and sit in his apartment, streaming volleyball games in the dark on his laptop or sending out a flurry of texts until late into the night. 

He hadn’t meant to scare him, he had really wanted to do this right, but-- as Iwaizumi huddled in the dark swallowing heaping mouthfuls of takeout noodles while watching yet another goddamn volleyball game--Oikawa decided he had had enough.

“We need to get you some hobbies, Iwa-chan,” he announced firmly from the window panel of Iwaizumi’s apartment. Iwaizumi let out a muffled scream, dropping the plastic container on the carpet with a sad  _ thump _ as he whirled around to face Oikawa. He might be willing to admit that this was a mistake on his part.

“What the fuck,  _ what the fuck!”  _ Iwaizumi yelled, flicking on the one, dim bulb to illuminate the space. His eyes darted around the room, searching for some kind of weapon. He grabbed the closest item--a plastic broom, of all things--and raised it above his head like a baseball bat. 

Oikawa raised his hands placatingly, wiggling the fingers as he stood very still while Iwaizumi approached him. 

“Get out,” Iwaizumi growled, stabbing at him with the dusty, broken bristles of the broom. Oikawa squeaked in protest as the clumps rained down on his pristine white toga.  _ Yet another thing for Mom to be pissed at me about. _

“I don’t know how you came in through the window, but good luck getting down,” he snapped, pushing him closer to the edge of the pane. Ohh fuck. His wings twitched in agitation, a sad imitation of their true form. The weak little tufts on his back would  _ not _ be able to lift him up if he was shoved out a 7-story window by a four dollar broom.

“Wait, wait,  _ waaiit!!” _ his voice hit an embarrassingly high pitch on the last word. Iwaizumi paused for just a moment in his pushing, the broom wavering in the air.

“What?” he snarled.

“I can explain!” Oikawa exclaimed, trying to inch away from the window and getting smacked in the shoulder for his efforts. Iwaizumi shot him an incredulous look. Oikawa waved his hands, as he desperately tried to think of the fastest way to tell Iwaizumi what was going on. 

“I’m one of Aphrodite’s sons,” he started, and Iwaizumi’s eyebrows went impossibly higher on his forehead, “and I’m here to help you find your soulmate.” There. Short and simple. Iwaizumi stared at him for a long moment, judging the expression on Oikawa’s face, before his eyes took in his outfit and flickered with recognition. Oikawa pulled his face up in an encouraging smile.

“You’re that asshole from the subway car,” Oikawa nodded, his smile dimming at ‘asshole’, “oh my god. Have you been stalking me this whole time?” Oikawa made a low ‘hmmph’ in the back of his throat.

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m not a stalker! I’m just doing my job, I’m here to help you! Really, you should be thanking me! Believe me, you need it!” 

“Thank you?” Iwaizumi’s voice was so flat it almost didn’t sound like a question. 

“You’re welcome,” Oikawa snarked, his typical shit-eating grin coming back to him in an instant. Iwaizumi’s mouth tightened. At least he no longer looked scared. Oikawa’s shoulders relaxed as he waited for Iwaizumi’s response. 

“I’m calling the cops,” his voice was so deadpan that Oikawa wasn’t sure he heard him right. In a moment, Iwaizumi had pulled out his phone and pushed 9-1-1. 

“You really don’t want to do that,” Oikawa said hesitantly. 

“And why’s that?” Iwaizumi asked, his finger hovering over the “call” button. 

“The police aren’t going to be able to see me.” Iwaizumi jabbed the call button in response, cradling the phone between his face and shoulder as he kept the broom in a defensive position. 

“Hello, this guy broke into my apartment and he won’t leave. Yeah, I’m looking at him right now.” He waved the broom threateningly as Oikawa tried to move away from the window again. “He’s wearing an angel costume. It’s pretty hard to miss.” 

Oikawa sighed in defeat as Iwaizumi continued explaining the situation while he waited for the police to arrive. This was going to be very embarrassing for Iwaizumi. Oh well. He tried to warn him. 

__________________________________________________________________________

The waitress flushed as her fingers brushed Oikawa’s, and he flashed her a warm smile, further deepening the red tint on her cheeks. Oikawa turned back to the ruffled brunet stuffing noodles into his mouth. It was his fault he hadn’t been able to eat his takeout; it was the least he could do to get him dinner. He tried not to visibly wince as sauce dribbled down the right side of Iwaizumi’s mouth. He swallowed, wiping the residue off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesus. Oikawa added “proper eating etiquette” to his mental to-do list. 

“Well, she can see you just fine. How does that work?” Iwaizumi grumbled. Oikawa waved a hand flippantly.

“I told you this already. I want her to see me, so she can. That’s how this works.” Oikawa took a bite of his complimentary dessert, making direct eye contact with their waitress. “It certainly pays off sometimes.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Anything else you can do, like, fly? Are those things real?” He gestured towards Oikawa’s wings. Oikawa slunk down in his seat at the reminder, pouting his lip. 

“Kind of?” Iwaizumi frowned, so he elaborated. “My wings are small,”  _ but not usually _ , his mind interrupted tauntingly, “so they add a little bit of a boost to my jumps, but I can’t exactly fly, per se.” His wings fluttered a little at the mention, drawing Iwaizumi’s eyes again. 

“How did you even get in my apartment then? I thought you came through the window.” Not exactly, but Oikawa wasn’t going to show all his cards to this guy. Oikawa shrugged.

“Is it that impossible to think I climbed up the fire escape?” he asked, tilting his head challengingly. Iwaizumi scowled, plunging his chopsticks into another massive heaping of noodles. He wasn’t going to put all that in his mouth at once, was he? Oikawa averted his eyes, scanning the crowded, noisy restaurant. There were a lot of young, attractive people. What were the odds his soulmate was here? 

“Why me?” Oikawa looked back at him, both relieved and disappointed to see that he had already finished the bowl. “So you’re Cupid,” Oikawa opened his mouth to tell him he very much was  _ not  _ Cupid--he didn’t need another god pissed at him, “or whatever you are,” Iwaizumi said in a bored tone, catching the expression on his face, “why are you helping me of all people?”

Oikawa considered the question. He could tell the truth--he  _ had _ to help him, which wouldn’t win him any points with the man, especially if he knew the reason why. So instead, he settled on a half-truth.

“I’m helping you because you’re a complicated case,” he said. Iwaizumi furrowed his brow.

“I’m a complicated case. What does that mean?” This was a much easier question. 

“My job is to make humans fall in love. There’s a lot of people out there like me. How many times does a person fall in their life, Iwa-chan?” 

“Stop calling me that, it’s weird. And I don’t know, what kind of a question is that?.”

“Well  _ I  _ think it’s cute--” Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, and Oikawa laughed, continuing to the point of the conversation. “ _ Most _ humans fall in love multiple times in their life. Some of that’s their own doing--much as you try to convince them that they  _ really should pick literally anyone else--”  _ Iwaizumi coughed pointedly, “but  _ some  _ humans have soulmates. Which, no, don’t laugh, isn’t as sweet as you think it is, it’s just annoying. Those stubborn bastards can’t fall in love with someone else with an arrow. There is  _ one _ person out of seven billion--how narrow-minded is  _ that  _ \--that is perfect for them.”

“So what you’re saying is I have to find this person or I’m never gonna fall in love?” 

“Mm, I didn’t say that. I said one of our  _ arrows _ can’t make you fall in love. You can  _ choose _ whoever you want. But Aphrodite likes soulmates to end up together. It’s the best tribute that can be made to her.”  _ And the only way I can get on her good side again.  _

“Okay then.” Oikawa blinked at him in surprise. “It’s honestly not the weirdest thing you’ve said in the last half an hour. Sounds like I’m getting a free meal and a perfect love life out of this. That works for me. So where do we start?”

That was what puzzled Oikawa. With the last few cases he’d worked, it hadn’t been all that hard to figure out: a childhood friend, a former lover, someone they had just  _ connected _ with. With Iwaizumi, however…

“Are there any classmates you really like?” Oikawa asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Iwaizumi shrugged.

“No. I don’t really talk to anyone in class.” Iwaizumi peered at the bottom of his bowl, poking at a clump of sauce with one chopstick. 

“What about from secondary?” Iwaizumi gave a curt shake of his head.

“I didn’t have time for that kind of thing back then.” He didn’t elaborate, still refusing to look up at the other man. Oikawa could feel a headache coming on.

“So you’ve never dated, and you’re not interested in anybody?” Oikawa confirmed. His stomach dropped as Iwaizumi nodded his agreement. The edge of his smile twitched stiffly as he imagined the world’s population in his mind’s eye, without a single clue of who it could be. Aphrodite had saved the hardest for last. Gods damn her. 


	2. Gods Are Self-Absorbed Assholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Oikawa realized, winning felt horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: implications of attempted noncon/drugging

Oikawa paced the few steps back and forth from the door to Iwaizumi’s apartment and the window pane, glancing over at Iwaizumi’s slumped position on the couch.  _ He _ seemed to think they had all the time in the world.

Three days. Seventy-two hours without even the slightest idea of where to go from here. At this rate, they were  _ both _ going to be old men before they found Iwaizumi’s soulmate. Oikawa could feel the wrinkles forming on his beautiful face already. He had to do something. 

“Get up. We’re going out tonight.” Iwaizumi peered owlishly at him, the phone lighting up his face.

“What? No, I’m not. I have an exam tomorrow,” Iwaizumi protested. Oikawa scoffed.

“Right. So you can sit in your sad little apartment and not study, or we can go somewhere fun,” Oikawa insisted, tapping his fingers along his halo impatiently, making a tinny sound. Iwaizumi propped himself up on his elbows, setting down his phone for a moment.

“It’s not sad, it’s perfectly fine!” Oikawa cast a glance around the apartment, from the dingy bathroom to the small heap of clothing piled in the right corner, and raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, it’ll just be for a couple hours. We’ll hit a few bars, you’ll talk to some guys, and you’ll be back in time to study.” Oikawa said, counting off each activity on his finger.

“What makes you so sure I like men?” Iwaizumi asked, avoiding the intended question. Oikawa stretched his arms above his head, oh-so-casually flexing his biceps. And there it was. A tinge of arousal came from Iwaizumi as he became very interested in a crack in the wall. 

“Just a hunch,” Oikawa smirked. With a disgruntled huff, Iwaizumi flipped around, turning his back to Oikawa as he pulled up a video on Youtube. That was absolutely unacceptable. No one ignored Tooru Oikawa. Oikawa leaned over the edge of the couch, resting his arms on the back as he tilted forward on his feet. 

“ _ Please _ , Iwa-chan?” he asked sweetly, his minty breath fanning Iwaizumi’s face as he pouted his lips. Iwaizumi glanced up and froze for a second, his eyes dilating even as he shrieked in shock and crashed to the floor. Gods, that was too easy. 

“Dude, get out of my face!” Iwaizumi snapped, scrambling back against the wall on his butt. Oikawa swung a long leg over the edge of the couch, successfully plopping down and claiming Iwaizumi’s former spot. It was more of a loveseat, really, Oikawa observed faintly, half his body hanging off the other edge. Well. It served its purpose, he guessed. 

Iwaizumi, with his dignity remarkably still intact, stood up to tower over Oikawa with crossed arms.

“It’s bad enough you’re following me around everywhere. Get off my couch,” Iwaizumi ordered. Oikawa closed his eyes and shifted onto his side, trying very hard not to laugh. 

“I was sitting there. Get off,” he said again. Oikawa opened one eye.

“You could sit on me,” Oikawa suggested, “I’m  _ very _ comfortable.” He wriggled his hips. Iwaizumi sputtered, and Oikawa couldn’t tell if the red tint to his face and neck was more due to embarrassment, lust, or anger. Most definitely a mix of all three. In spite of their predicament, Oikawa was certain he hadn’t had this much fun with a mortal in a very long time. 

“Fine. Where are we going?” Iwaizumi asked resignedly, running a hand through bristled, spiked locks. Oikawa blinked up at him with a face of faux confusion.

“I thought we weren’t going anywhere? You wanted to sit on my lap,” Oikawa said, widening his eyes innocently. That was definitely a vein bulging on Iwaizumi’s neck; it looked painful. 

“Ha, ha, ha. You’ve had your fun. Stop annoying me and let’s just get this over with,” Iwaizumi said through gritted teeth. Oikawa bounced to his feet, wrapping an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders and all but shoving him out the door.

____________________________________________________________________________

“So how long am I supposed to sit here  _ not _ talking to people?” Iwaizumi asked, wiping a finger along the ring of his mug with one hand while propping his chin up on the bar with the other.

“Depends. See anyone you find interesting?” 

Iwaizumi gave him an exasperated look.

“Isn’t this your job?” he asked drily, “I don’t really even get how I’m going to know when I meet him.”

Oikawa was reluctant to admit he had a point. Oikawa himself, love extraordinaire and Aphrodite’s blatant favorite, was stumped. Soulmates were usually irritating because there was a roadblock between the lovers: an insecurity, a misunderstanding, a physical distance between them. Not having any idea about their soulmate-- when it was supposedly the right time to meet them? It was  _ weird _ .

Oikawa shook his head, brown curls falling in his eyes for a moment before he carefully maneuvered them back into place. Now was not the time to panic. They came here for a reason: Iwaizumi didn’t know anyone in New York, so it was time to meet some people.

Oikawa scanned the crowded bar. It was full of college students, partly due to the cheap beer and appetizers, and partly due to the American football game playing on the TV overhead. There were men scattered throughout the bar, tall and short, broad and skinny, wearing hoodies and jerseys with various teams and fraternity insignias emblazoned across the front. That’s what happened in a city with this many universities, he supposed. It would be easy to have a conversation with anyone here about the game, or bemoan their college experience. It should have been the perfect place to start looking. 

He wasn’t seeing anyone that caught his eye, however. Iwaizumi liked his men mouthy and gorgeous--and there wasn’t anyone  _ single _ here that fit the bill. In the middle of his internal monologue, a few women had come up on his side of the bar and he’d flirted with them offhandedly before turning back to Iwaizumi. 

“So are we staying here, or going somewhere else, Iwa-chan?” He grinned into a stolen sip of Iwaizumi’s beer. He didn’t receive a response. Oikawa looked up at him over the edge of the mug, noticing that his attention was elsewhere. His eyes were focused on a single spot behind them, an intense concentration in them that Oikawa hadn’t seen before. He couldn’t feel any hint of arousal coming from him, either. Which in itself was odd---even when Oikawa wasn’t messing with him, he’d felt a constant, low thrum of attraction coming from the other man. It was flattering, even if Oikawa was used to mortals’ affections. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone serious. He swiveled in his seat to follow Iwaizumi’s line of sight. There were at least fifteen people over in that corner of the room.

“That guy in the red hat is creeping me out,” Iwaizumi said slowly. That...wasn’t a particularly detailed description, but Oikawa quickly found the man in question. He was sitting at one of the smaller tables, the one chair across from him announcing its occupancy with a half-eaten plate of nachos and a martini. His eyes were flitting back and forth around the room quickly, nervously. His fingers twitched, his knee tapping against the wood as he raised a clenched fist and set it on the table. In a flash he had raised the hand over the drink, dropping something inside. 

Oikawa didn’t have time to hear Iwaizumi’s gasp before he was storming over to the table. He swiped the drink off the table, knocking it back in one long gulp. 

“What the hell man?” the guy said, starting to wobble to his feet before Oikawa pushed him back down forcefully by his shoulder, his nails digging into his arm. Oikawa glowered at him, channeling all the rage of a god. Most of the time, he tried not to show people he wasn’t exactly human. This wasn’t one of those times.

“Get the fuck out of here. If I ever see your face again, you’ll regret it.” There wasn’t an ounce of heat to his words; it wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.

He released his grip on the man’s shoulder and took a half-step backwards, his back rigid. The man stumbled to his feet, inches from Oikawa’s looming form, and hurried out the door. Oikawa didn’t look away until the man had disappeared from sight, a stony expression on his face. 

Under the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, he became increasingly aware of an arm on his elbow, and his name being repeated over and over. 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked hesitantly. Oikawa sucked in a quick breath, relaxing his shoulders and the tension in his body, before turning to shoot Iwaizumi a prize-winning smile. Iwaizumi’s face scrunched in confusion.

“I changed my mind. We’re going somewhere else.”

____________________________________________________________________________ 

After a week of boring conversations and bad alcohol, Oikawa decided that college bar meet-cutes were overrated, anyway. Iwaizumi seemed to agree.

“So what bar are we going to tonight?” Iwaizumi sounded tired and the night hadn’t even begun. He was slumped in the one chair in the apartment, and hadn’t moved an inch since his last class ended earlier that afternoon.

“We’re done with bars,” Oikawa said as he raided Iwaizumi’s pantry in search of  _ something _ that wasn’t expired takeout or ramen. Iwaizumi perked up in his seat.

“Wait, really?” Iwaizumi leaned back in his seat, gaping at Oikawa.

“Yeah, really. We’re not getting anywhere with that, so we’ve gotta try something else,” Oikawa said, searching the empty pantry again before shutting it with a mournful sigh and returning to the fridge for the dubious container in the back. 

“Is this about what happened the other night?” 

Oikawa stiffened at the unwelcome memory, pausing with his hand wrapped around plastic.

“No. That happens everywhere, unfortunately.” The words tasted like hard copper in his mouth, and his lips twisted as he spat them out. 

“And you always do what you did?” Iwaizumi sounded--curious, with something else underlying his tone. 

“I always do something. It’s not really enough, though, is it?” He didn’t give Iwaizumi any room to answer that. “Where do you want to go tonight?”  _ Please let me change the subject. _

“I didn’t really think gods existed, before I met you, I guess,” Iwaizumi said, ignoring Oikawa’s question, “Still not sure that I do.”

Oikawa tried not to take that personally. 

“But I was pretty sure that if they  _ did _ exist, they didn’t give a shit about anybody but themselves.” 

Something like shame gnawed at Oikawa’s stomach, but he forced himself to grin in response.

“Sounds like you’ve got us pegged pretty good, then,” he said, his cheeks straining around the smile. Iwaizumi frowned at him. 

“No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” he said. It must have sounded less harsh in his head.

“It’s fine, you can tell me the truth,” he fluttered his eyelashes at him, “I  _ am _ the vainest person you know. And proud of it.” He winked at him to accentuate his point. Instead of the expected curl of warmth, Iwaizumi scowled harder at him. 

“Goddamnit, can you just let me speak for once? That’s not what I meant,” he growled. Oikawa turned away again, pretending to rustle through the pantry once more while waving with his right hand for him to continue. 

“I was wrong.” What? Oikawa turned that answer around in his head. He knew many gods  _ very _ intimately, and it was about the truest thing you could say about them. Water is wet. Gods are self-absorbed assholes. Iwaizumi didn’t seem to like his explanation, tugging at his hair as he scrunched his face again.

“At least, about you,” he amended. Oikawa blanched. He refused to talk about this anymore, and he was a lot more stubborn than Iwaizumi. 

“We’re gonna find a club for you to join,” he said quickly, before Iwaizumi could say anything else, “You might want to do some research, or we’re going to the first group I find.”

“I was wrong about you. You actually give a shit about people,” Iwaizumi said again, louder this time. Oikawa breathed out loudly through his nose, rustling around the same three cans and several packets of ramen before giving up on the charade. He spun around, facing a now-standing Iwaizumi.

“Okay. You’ve got my attention. What do you want me to say?” Oikawa asked sharply. Their eyes narrowed, neither one willing to look away from the other for several moments. 

“I don’t agree with you. I’m a god. Mortals are mortals. Your lives are  _ so  _ short. It’s hard to care about somebody that’s gone in an instant.” 

At that, Oikawa won the silent staredown. Iwaizumi flinched back before slumping into his chair.

Sometimes, Oikawa realized, winning felt  [ **horrible** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WG564GILdCY) .


	3. Oikawa Is A Pig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I could give you tips. I’m the best dicksucker I know. A little training and I bet you’d make him scream.”

Oikawa wouldn’t call their conversation in the kitchen a “fight”. It was just uncomfortable. That was it. Iwaizumi had been a bit more... _ subdued _ the last few days, than the last week they had spent together. But they were  _ definitely _ still on good terms. Even if Iwaizumi was barely responding to his jibes. It was fine. Seriously.

Oikawa’s head bumped against the window pane as he adjusted his position on the floor. He could sit on the chair in the “kitchen area”, but it would be exchanging one hard surface for another. He looked resentfully over at Iwaizumi’s sprawl across the couch; his signature move. He wasn’t even sure the man was actually looking up clubs like he’d told him to. No matter; Oikawa would make good on his threat, if he actually found a club  _ he _ found interesting enough to visit. 

Oikawa rubbed at his temples before glancing back at his phone and doing a double take.

He squinted at the screen. He  _ couldn’t _ have read that right. And yet, no matter how many times he refreshed the page on his phone, the same title swam across the top of the website.

“Your school has a  _ squirrel _ watching club?!” He sent Iwaizumi a beseeching look. The other man waved a hand dismissively, not looking up from his screen.

“Yeah.”

Really? He couldn’t even get Iwaizumi to talk to him about something that bizarre? 

“How long are you going to be mad at me?” Gods didn’t whine.  _ Oikawa  _ certainly didn’t. But there was a distinctly high note to the end of his question.

Iwaizumi sighed loudly-- _ rude _ \--and finally met his gaze.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said. Oikawa scrunched his face at him.

“Well you’re not  _ happy _ with me,” he pouted. This was going to be a  _ long _ assignment if Iwaizumi was going to be grumpy with him the whole time. Iwaizumi didn’t dignify that with a response, instead reading something on his phone with a strange look on his face. 

Huffing lowly, Oikawa got to his feet, sashaying the few steps over to the couch.

“Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched.

“Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi scrolled his thumb against his phone screen with more force than necessary.

“ _ Iwa-chan _ ,” he repeated, his voice sing-song, before getting a little huskier, “what can I do to make it up to you?” He propped his chin on the arm of the couch, staring at Iwaizumi with puppy-dog eyes. Iwaizumi narrowed his own into slits.

“You can stop doing  _ that _ , for starters.”

“Doing what?” Oikawa asked, batting his eyes at him. What? He couldn’t help but take the bait.

“For someone that’s trying not to piss me off, you’re being really annoying,” Iwaizumi said. He stood up suddenly, and Oikawa felt a rush of hope. Had he found someplace for them to go?

“Don’t look so excited. I’m going to the bathroom. You gonna follow me there too?” 

As the door slammed behind him, Oikawa considered the possibility that he  _ might _ have messed that up.

____________________________________________________________________________

Oikawa wasn’t giving up on the club idea--it was a great way for Iwaizumi to meet people with similar interests--but he decided to put it on pause during midterms. Iwaizumi seemed stressed enough without the additional pressure.

The man was on his fourth coffee of the night, his eyes flitting back and forth between different sections of the haphazard heap of papers strewn across the library desk. He scribbled something down on an open section of his notebook, then checked the answer. He groaned, balling up the paper in his hand. 

“You’re, like, ancient, right? Any chance you can help me with this?” he pleaded. Things had been tense between them for a few days, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Oikawa wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I’m not ancient, thanks,” he started, even as he pulled the piece of paper over to him, “And even if I was, that wouldn’t naturally make me an expert on…” He scanned the piece of paper, immediately recognizing a few telltale formulas, “astrophysics?” He gaped at Iwaizumi. “What are you studying? I thought you hadn’t picked a major yet.”

Iwaizumi made another miserable sound.

“I haven’t. This class is a gen ed. It was  _ supposed _ to be the easiest science elective from the list, but no one told me Professor Briggs retired after last semester. Kowalski just got his doctorate and he’s such a  _ hardass _ .”

Oikawa hummed thoughtfully, picking up Iwaizumi’s notebook and skimming through the headings. He snorted at the notes in Japanese in the margins: ‘ _???? _ ’, ‘ _ Alright, we get it, you think you’re the smartest person here _ ’, along with several other one-liners and complaints. 

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, and Iwaizumi’s face lifted for the first time in hours, “I have a, hm,  _ interest _ in astronomy.” No need to get into a personal matter; not that he had the time or mental fortitude to explain his reasoning to him.

“Really?” he asked, looking at him like Oikawa had hung the sun and moon. Something in his stomach grew warm at the expression.

“Yes, really. Where do you want to start?”

For the first time, Iwaizumi leaned into his space, his arm pressing against Oikawa’s right side from shoulder to hand.

“Well, I don’t understand this section at all…”

__________________________________________________________________________

Oikawa felt a smug sense of satisfaction when Iwaizumi came back from that exam with the highest score in the class.

His good deed even had a benefit for him; not only did Iwaizumi have the highest score, he was one of just three  _ passing _ scores in the entire class. A bewildered Iwaizumi was receiving messages by the hour from desperate classmates begging for a study session.

“If I get  _ one _ more message about question 3 on the homework, I’m gonna start blocking people,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“Don’t be so stingy, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teased, “Not everyone has a wonderful, handsome--”

“ _ Humble _ ,” Iwaizumi interjected, an amused glint in his eye. 

“--Tutor that can teach them everything they need to know,” Oikawa finished, “And I do mean _everything._ ” Oikawa savored the little curl of heat that sang from Iwaizumi at the come-on. It never got old. Actually, he was doing the man a favor; he wouldn’t want him to do something embarrassing like _swoon_ when they finally found his soulmate.

“I think you’re losing your game, man, that one wasn’t even good,” Iwaizumi lied. Oikawa flopped backwards onto the couch, an arm pressed against his forehead in mock despair. 

“You  _ wound  _ me,” he cried. He buried his head in a couch pillow. Big mistake. It smelled like ass and tortilla chips. 

“Don’t hog the couch,” Iwaizumi said, nudging his legs with one socked foot. Oikawa stretched his legs out further, wriggling in place.

“I’m  _ dying _ and you don’t even care.”

“You’re fine, you’re such a baby.” There was no bite to his tone.

Oikawa could feel that Iwaizumi was still standing there. If he was waiting for Oikawa to move, he was going to be disappointed. Iwaizumi had come to the same conclusion, sighing loudly. Instead of claiming the chair, like Oikawa expected, he felt a weight pressing down on his legs. 

He peeked out around the edge of the pillow to see Iwaizumi sitting on him, staring at his face. 

“Finally taking me up on my offer?” he asked, his sorrow long forgotten. Iwaizumi shifted on top of Oikawa’s knees, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not sitting on your lap, but you’re not kicking me off my furniture, either,” he said, followed by a quick murmur under his breath, “It’s not like you pay rent.” A mortal could have heard the last part, let alone a god. Oikawa pulled himself into a sitting position, his legs still under Iwa’s ass on the other ‘cushion’.

“You  _ love _ my company!” he proclaimed. Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows at him.

“No, I’m just used to it, at this point,” he said, and Oikawa felt his body stiffen as he realized how that sounded. The god let out a victory whoop.

“You  _ like  _ me, you  _ like  _ me!” He jabbed his finger emphatically in Iwaizumi’s chest, who swatted his hand away. 

“Oh my god,” he groaned, “I was just saying that you’re, like,  _ always _ here. I’d lose my mind if I didn’t learn to tolerate you.”

“That’s not very sweet, Iwa-chan,” he pouted. The banter was interrupted by Iwaizumi’s phone chiming over and over in his pocket. The man winced at the tinny tone. 

“Yeah, well, I never said I was nice,” Iwaizumi muttered absentmindedly as he tapped in his password. He narrowed his eyes at the screen. 

“More questions about the homework?” Oikawa guessed.

“What else?” Iwaizumi complained, “It’s like they think I don’t have other classes too.”

“You’re not going about this the right way,” Oikawa said, kicking up his legs insistently until Iwaizumi moved so he could escape. Oikawa shifted close to Iwaizumi, squinting at the Astronomy group chat. 

“Look at this like Grindr,” he began. Iwaizumi shot him an incredulous look.

“You’re off to a great start.”

“Look at this like Grindr,” he repeated, tapping on one of the names to bring up his student photo, “Is he hot? If so, then respond to him. If not, ignore him.” Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped open, and he was silent for a moment, just staring at Oikawa’s bland expression.

“You’re a pig.”

“You know I’m right.”

____________________________________________________________________________

“Hey, that guy was hot!” Iwaizumi protested, trying to snatch his phone out of Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa leaned over the edge of the couch to get out of reach. 

“No he’s not, don’t lie to make yourself feel better,” Oikawa said, leaving his message on read before scrolling down to the next classmate’s question. 

After a few more days of watching Iwaizumi nearly tear his hair out trying to respond to dozens of messages, Oikawa decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. He was currently culling the herd. 

“Ugly, ugly,  _ boring _ , ugly,” he mumbled, flicking through each photo.

“No, wait,” Iwaizumi said, “How can you tell he’s  _ boring _ from a picture?” 

“I can’t,” Oikawa said, “But I remember him from your lectures. Every time he opens his mouth I just--” He made a snoring sound.   


“You’re so mean.”

Oikawa scoffed, unfazed.

“Yeah, and you  [ **like** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yn8L-8R4tDA) it. What does that say about you?” He paused on one photo; a man with a sharp jawline and piercing hazel eyes, “This one’s not bad. What do you think?” 

“I’m giving him homework answers, not sucking his dick,” Iwaizumi paused, taking a moment to really look at the picture and his eyes widened, “but yeah, he’s, he looks kinda nice.”

“Where’s the fun in stopping there?” Oikawa said, typing quickly in the hopes that Iwaizumi wouldn’t notice, “I could give you tips. I’m the best dicksucker I know. A little training and I bet you’d make him scream.”

Iwaizumi’s breath sputtered, and Oikawa pretended not to notice that he was dangerously close to getting hard. He didn’t want to torture him, but--

“On a banana, of course. You didn’t think I was gonna suck you off, did you? Not that I’m opposed.”

“Stop.” Iwaizumi covered his reddening face with both hands.

The phone chimed and Oikawa’s grin widened.

“So it looks like you can give him that blowie at 3 o’clock tomorrow. You’re welcome.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes glared out at him from between his fingers.

“You’re messing with me.” That sounded like a threat. Oikawa paid it no mind. 

He smiled patiently at him, waiting for it to click. 

“Oh my god, what did you say?! I have to go to  _ class _ with him!” Iwaizumi shrieked. He lunged towards the phone, and Oikawa leaped to his feet. He silently thanked his mother for his height and lanky arms as he held the phone above his head while Iwaizumi desperately reached for it.

“Don’t be so dramatic. There’s 300 people in that class. You won’t even see him unless you want to.” He was  _ trying  _ to calm him down, but he only seemed to be more enraged by the second. He decided to go easy on him.

“Look, it’s really not that bad.” He lowered his hand within Iwaizumi’s reach, who snatched the phone from his grip, scrambling to put in the passcode as fast as possible. Iwaizumi’s eyes darted back and forth on the screen. Oikawa hadn’t said that much, so he must have reread it at least once or twice. 

“You just got me a study date?” Iwaizumi asked. He sounded like he didn’t dare hope it was that simple.

“That’s what I said. You’ve got a date at 3 o’clock tomorrow. You don’t  _ have  _ to blow him then but I definitely encourage it.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

Classes the next day passed painfully slow. Oikawa was tempted to suggest they go back to the apartment early, but doubted Iwaizumi would take him up on it. It was just one date, but, in spite of himself, Oikawa could feel excitement coursing through him. Maybe, just maybe, he could  _ finally _ go home. 

As Iwaizumi’s last class ended, Oikawa all but dragged him home, a tight grip on his arm as he raced towards the apartment. 

“Okay, okay, I’m coming! What’s gotten into you?  _ I’m _ the one going on a date!” Iwaizumi snapped. 

“It’s already--” Oikawa snuck a peek at his phone and grimaced before picking up the pace., “It’s already 1 o’clock and we still have so much to do!” 

“What do you mean? I’m ready to go!” Iwaizumi insisted. He gave himself a once-over, shaking his head at Oikawa. Oikawa stopped in his tracks, scanning Iwaizumi’s face for any hint of a joke. No, he had to be kidding. But he wasn’t; all he could see was confusion in his expression.

Oikawa paused, choosing his words carefully. What was the nicest way he could say this?

“There are some things we could do to...” Oikawa faltered.

Iwaizumi nodded, his eyebrows scrunched, clearly not sure where he was going. He could already tell Iwaizumi would take this personally. It needed to be done though. He’d just say it up front.

“You can’t wear that, and you need to fix your hair,” Oikawa said bluntly. There must have been some middle ground between what he said and “wear what you want”, but they didn’t really have time to find it.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” he asked, his hackles risen. Ah. No comment about the hair. At least he was a little self-aware. 

“Hoodies and sweatpants are great for going to class, not for going out with someone you ever want to fuck you.” 

Iwaizumi scowled.

“You’re just picky.” He didn’t sound so certain, looking down at the stained, oversized hoodie and formless sweatpants with a dawning realization. 

“Oh my god, I dress like a fucking slob.”

“I’m sorry you had to find this out now,” he said, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice. Iwaizumi seemed horrified.

“I just...I didn’t realize I dressed like this now. I didn’t wear this kind of stuff in secondary, honestly,” he said fervently, his eyes begging Oikawa to understand. Oikawa quickly realized they were no longer messing around. “After I graduated I just...didn’t care as much.” It hurt to look at him when his face looked that crestfallen. “About anything, really.”

He didn’t know the validity of the statement and, frankly, couldn’t delve into what Iwaizumi had just said in the few minutes they had to spare.

“We will come back to that,” he promised, more to himself than to his stunned companion. For the first time all day, his mood dimmed as he realized that might be a lie. If this guy really was Iwaizumi’s soulmate, then soon enough Oikawa would be a world away from here. What if Iwaizumi never brought this up to someone else again? The man wasn’t exactly open with his emotions. Oikawa’s heart squeezed in his chest. They  _ would  _ talk about it, no matter what. He’d make sure of it. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Oikawa was silent as he went through Iwaizumi’s closet, searching for something for him to wear. Gods damn it, there had to be something…  _ anything.  _ In his urgency, he knocked the shirt in the far back of the closet off its hanger. He picked it up, intending to hang it back up, and stopped in his tracks, registering what he was looking at. A teal blue uniform with white lines, a large four centered across the front and back. 

He didn’t realize Iwaizumi played a sport in secondary school. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know anything  _ at all _ about Iwaizumi before he had met him. A lump formed in his throat.

He was jerked back to reality by a hand tightening around his arm.

“Don’t touch that. Just leave it on the floor.” He was pretty sure he’d never heard a worse sound in his life than the defeat in Iwaizumi’s voice. He wavered; it was clear that this  _ mattered _ to Iwaizumi, and he didn’t want to disregard that. 

Iwaizumi made the decision for him, grabbing the fabric from his hands and balling it up before tossing it in. The man sucked in a deep breath, and Oikawa had the awful suspicion that he was pretty close to tears. 

“Is there  _ anything _ that looks good in there?” Iwaizumi asked, before breathing out heavily again. Oikawa wordlessly handed him the best shirt and jeans he could find.

“This had better be a fucking amazing date,” Iwaizumi said wryly, his voice a little wet. Oikawa reached out a hand to comfort him before stopping in mid-air, uncertain. Iwaizumi stared at the hand, and Oikawa saw more than felt his fingers twitch before he looked away. 

“Are you sure that--?”

“ _ Yes _ .” It wasn’t up for discussion. Oikawa prayed to all the gods that would listen that this date would go well.


End file.
